


What You Don't Know Might Kill You

by Delia_Sky



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Multi, Vampirestuck, can you guess who's the vampire?, first chapter doesn't really give away much though, i dunno, maybe also the major ones, of course there would be more than one, or should i say 'vampires'?, there will be minor character death
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-24
Updated: 2014-07-20
Packaged: 2018-01-16 21:20:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1362136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Delia_Sky/pseuds/Delia_Sky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(Also goes by; I Don't Have a Clue What Title Should I Use So Let's Just Stick with This Until I Find a More Suitable One or Someone Gives Me a Better Title)</p>
<p>You curse yourself of your ignorance. You should've known. He pins you against the cold wall and nohing you could do can save you now. You can feel his fangs against your neck and you're sure you're going to be dead.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One Morning

**Author's Note:**

> Uhm... hello. Hope you enjoy this chapter. Oh, and a little warning though. I like MeuLoz, but I also like yaoi soooo much. So, yeah, Meulin's a male. It's a win-win for me. Hope it's still your cup of tea.

_Click clack click clack…_

You smirk at the sound of heels hitting the cold pavement of the dark, empty alley. She won’t know what hits her.

You sneak in the shadow, fluid as cat, and ready yourself to attack.

_She won’t know what hits her._

There are no scream, no struggle, just a loud thud as she falls to the ground and then smell of blood filling your nostrils.

You don’t like the smell; it irks you to no end.

But it is a sign of another job well done. Carefully, you separate the head from the body with your blade.

You smirk and turn around, with a head as a trophy to show your brother and father.

* * *

 

“Baby brother, it’s motherfucking eight in the morning now and I don’t want you to scream the motherfuck out but you are running late and I’m not waiting for you.”

You almost throw yourself off of the bed when you throw your blanket and sit right up, and you almost trip over when you scurry to the bathroom after pushing your brother out of the way with a not-so-polite “Out of the way, motherfucker,” which the only reply is a snort.

You regret your father’s decision to leave him in charge of the car because he doesn’t give mass of two shits about you getting late. He said he wouldn’t wait, that means he wouldn’t wait. So much of a brother.

You sniff your armpits (that’s a little bit disgusting, but you’re pretty much used to it considering you are late three times out of five), don’t find any problem, and go straight to the sink and wash your face and hurriedly brush your teeth. You snatched your uniform, fumbling with it as you dressed while running to the garage where your brother was heating up the car.

“And motherfuckers wonder why our water bill isn’t as high,” he mutters when you throw yourself to the passenger seat.

“Shut the motherfuck up.”

Really, even the local thugs cringe at how casually you and your family abuse the ‘mother-eff’ word. All of you couldn’t find it in yourselves to stop though. Using that word is like a tradition passed along in your family since the first generation. It isn’t though. You’re just used to it because your brother’s used to it because your father’s used to it. No one knows where it starts as a casual greeting and pet name.

“Grab me the motherfucking Cocoa Pebbles,” your brother said and you grab one of many boxes from the back seat.

“Here.”

“Feed me, will ya? I can’t drive this motherfucking piece of shit with only one fucking hand.”

Your father might cry if he hears that his one prided son calls his darling black Maserati ‘piece of shit’. Then again, anyone might pretty much cry if they know your family uses the back seat of said car as a breakfast supplies cabinet.

“You beat Sollux on a game with only one motherfucking hand on the console!”

“Or we can just pull over here and I’ll take my motherfucking sweet time eating my breakfast and after I’m done, then I’ll start the shitty engine and we’ll both be late, but that will be motherfucking fine because I am too as late as you, right?”

You end up hand-feeding him. That’s not really how you plan your morning is going to be, but you can’t afford to be late today because…

“Shit. Shitty motherfucker with a shitty cherry on top.”

“Whut?” he asks with mouth full of dry cereal.

“I have a test today. Fuck. Fuck, fuckfuckfuck—” you curse to the eternity.

And he steps on the gas pedal until it’s flat to the floor.

* * *

 

More than a hundred pairs of eyes looks straight to you. Or your car. Or your father’s, if that matters. Of course they would. There’s no one crazy enough to drive that fast to school except your brother.

“Now go study a bit or something. Hell’s gonna break loose if you don’t motherfucking get at least a B on History. You know how our old man is.”

“Yeah. I’ll study, aiight? Now stop leaning on me. It’s creepy.”

“You won’t go before you give your motherfucking brother here a kiss. Come on.”

You’re not a kid and you didn’t even give your mother a kiss before you went to school when you were little. A part of you reminds yourself that it’s because she was never there. You sighed, defeated.

“If anyone accuses me being involved in some kind of incestuous act, I’m gonna motherfucking kill you,” you hissed before leaning and kissing him. Of course no one is going to, you know that. One, both of you are in a car and no one can see inside unless they have some wicked X-ray vision. Two, he’s not single. Three, everyone knows he’s just a very doting brother (or thinks so, because you’re not sure how all of this is ‘doting’). ‘Sides, who wouldn’t like to see the beauty of miracle called ‘two hot brothers of Turkish-Hispanic-India-German-France-English-heritage making out’ anyway? And now you’re pretty sure you’re fucked up somewhere in your head.

Shit, this is getting too much for one morning.

* * *

 

The history test was a cakewalk. Mostly because you got yourself a good ten minutes before the bell and you were lucky enough the miracle was on your side.

You had a boring math class, and then biology. And for the next class, it is German. You’re never really sure why you have to study so much language when in reality you could manage just fine with only two (English and sign language).

Then the teacher hands over a piece of paper to each one of the students and the classroom is filled with one harmonious choir of groan and curse.

You hate pop-quiz. No matter what subject. You. Just. Motherfucking. Hate. Pop. Quiz. But you mostly hate pop-quiz on language-related-subject because at the end, like now, the other will always crowd you and ask how you are so good with languages and shit and you literally have to come up with at least three different excuses every three quizzes before they’re satisfied and leave you alone. One time you just say it’s because of your family inheritance (you were born with, like six different heritages), and you have to use certain language to certain person or you’ll get your ass handed to you. Other time, you’ll just say your father likes collecting books in many languages, though he rarely reads them. And sometimes, when you’re just sick of it, you’ll just say you like studying language (this one is a complete bullshit, though).

There are exceptions, of course.

Sollux doesn’t bother with anything because he’s just like that (you doubt he’ll even bother if one day you manage to get one of your limbs amputated).

Dave doesn’t bother with it because he is too cool for that.

John doesn’t bother because he’s probably gotten himself busy with prank ideas.

Karkat doesn’t bother because he just doesn’t bother with your shit.

Kanaya doesn’t too, because she’s just a sweetheart and she knows how much it annoys you.

And Tavros. Tavros fucking Nitram. He’s just a very sweet person. Even the Mohawk hair and the piercings on his ears don’t hide the teeth-rotting sweetness gushing from him.

He just throws a smile, as if saying; “Hang on there, good luck.”

It’s not a secret you’re head-over-toe for him. Or, is it? So far, only Kanaya can tell you’re desperately in love. So maybe it is a secret. Damn, and you were trying to get him to notice too…

He stands and walks to your desk. Really, is this happening? Maybe he’s just going to Sollux’s. Or Dave’s. No, he stops right in front of you.

“Hey, uh, Gamzee, you wanna grab a lunch?”

You want to scream; “Tavros, you are my motherfucking hero, please get me out of this motherfucking pit of screaming crowd and live happily ever fucking after in the kingdom of motherfucking miracle!” but you decide against it. It won’t do if you’re just going to creep the shit out of him.

You stand and reply with a wide grin; “Sure, this motherfucker’s stomach has been grumblin’ for a while.”

* * *

After you drop your baby brother off, you continue to the high school complex and park your car. You are in good mood today and you promise yourself you will cherish the moment and won’t let anything ruin it.

You got out from the car and grab your backpack.

A voice calls you and you immediately recognize who it is.

“Purrloz!”

Who else calls you that and doesn’t get their eyes gouged out? No one.

You wave at your boyfriend and he pounces at you right away. “Morning, Kittybitch,” you murmur and he pouts.

“You should think a little of cuter pet name fur me, you know.”

“Like what?”

“I dunno, ‘Meowlin’? ‘Meowmeow’? Anything?”

“You love me either motherfucking way.”

He smiles and nuzzles your neck.

Yup, nothing today can ruin your moment.

* * *

Except the fact that the baby brother you love the most in this world just brings the worst, most wretched, most accursed news to you.

“Kurbro, I have a motherfucking boyfriend!”

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yup, Kurloz can talk, he's just reeeeaaaalllyyy picky about whom he is talking to. And for your note, I don't know a shit about cars, okay? Please don't blame me. Also, mixed-heritage Makaras are hot. *is slapped*


	2. Choking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You like your mundane life, but you could never say 'no' to thrill.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for any mistake in grammar, idiom, verb, and anything. My English is really rusty, though maybe you can see that from chapter one. If you're still sticking with me now, I am very grateful.
> 
> Also, yes, this chapter happens before the previous chapter's ending.

The cafeteria is crowded and there’s a long queue by the stand, as usual. You should’ve brought a box of cereal with you, but that’d probably be weird, though you don’t mind because everyone should’ve been used to your antics right now. It’s not like you can get any weirder anyway.

“What’re you gonna get?”

“Dunno. Some sandwich and milk, maybe.” You dig into your blazer’s pocket. That’s weird. Your wallet isn’t in there. Maybe the other one. Also not there.

Maybe you’ll just sit and watch Tavros eats. The idea of getting back to class to search for your wallet you’re not even sure in your backpack doesn’t really strike your fancy.

“Uh, something’s wrong?”

“N…” you are going for ‘no’, but, “Yup. I forgot my motherfucking wallet,” comes out instead.

“I can buy you your lunch.”

“Nah, ‘s okay.”

“No, it’s not. We have PE today and you’re not gonna stand a chance running a full lap without fainting. Uh… sorry. Just… eat, okay?”

If you haven’t fallen to the deepest pit of love, you sure are now.

“’Kay.”

He smiles and you feel like you’re one of those teenage girls in one of Dave’s brother’s manga, the one who got her knees turning into some jelly because cool-ass crush smiles at her. Maybe you should stop hanging around with Dave. Or just refuse any manga he offers to you.

He tells you to find seats and goes to the long queue.

Your stomach grumbles when he comes back with your lunch and his and you wish he hadn’t heard that because it would be embarrassing. You wouldn’t care if it’s someone else because you don’t have to impress no one else. But what if he heard and decides his type of guy (or girl) isn’t one with weird antics and grumbling stomach to go with it.

Sheesh, you’re getting paranoid.

He sets the trays on table and you mutter a ‘thanks’ as sweet as you can and decide to give him that deadly smile that often gets you out of trouble; toothy grin with a flash of your sharp fang (Kurloz taught you that, he said you look cute like that).

And both of you eat in silence and you wonder why he fidgets and throws glances everywhere but your general direction. Is there something wrong with you? Maybe you’ve grown two heads and he doesn’t have the heart to tell you. Or maybe you’ve morphed into some creepy looking creature.

Seriously, you should get therapy for your paranoia.

“Uh… Gamzee,” he croaks, wanting to say something but decides against it before you swallow your food.

“Yea?”

“Uhm, well…”

You take another bite and he waits. Maybe he doesn’t want you to choke. Is it really that bad?

“Wha ‘s it?” you ask, mouth still half full.

“You should swallow first.”

“’S okay, ‘m not gonna choke.” You take another bite.

He inhales deeply and opens his mouth. Here comes the moment of truth.

“Oh-kay. Uh, w-would you like to, uh, go out with me? A-and, not go out ‘go out’, y-y’know. Uh… okay, this is embarrassing…”

“Sure. When?”

“Really? You wanna go out with me?”

“Yea, why not? We’re gonna hang out like two cool motherfuckers, chill as Arctic, and we’re probably gonna make the best rapping duo and Dave’s gonna motherfucking grovel at our feet.”

“Uh, Gamzee…”

“Yea?”

Another bite.

“I-I think you’re mistaken… I was, uh, meaning to, uh…”

Swallow, bite, chew, stick the straw to your milk carton and drink.

“A-ask you on a date.”

And you choke so hard milk gushing out from your nose.

* * *

 

After ten embarrassing minute trying to stop your coughing fit and wipe the milk stain off of your shirt in the washroom, you’re sure you’ll never want to meet Tavros again. Your image is a lost cause. You rue this day. And you want nothing other than to get swallowed by earth and never be seen again. At least not by him.

He doesn’t make it easier because he’s waiting for you outside the room.

“You’re okay?”

You nod. You’re okay physically; you’re just sure if you are mentally.

“Sorry,” he says. He shouldn’t say that. He is not sorry!

No, _you’re_ sorry.

You just ruined the probably only chance you ever get of getting him just because you spit milk through your nose. If you were with anyone else, you’d probably laugh at their face. But this is Tavros and you’ve had crush on him since the first time you met him in the middle of the headmaster’s boring speech at the enrollment ceremony. This is Tavros motherfucking Nitram and all you’ve ever wanted was going on a date with him and you ruined it like a boss!

You want to cry.

“So… uh, is the choking a ‘yes’ or a ‘no’?”

What?

You realize you were thinking out loud because he repeats his question.

You quickly nod before he changes his mind. “Yes. Hell motherfucking yes.”

* * *

And then you feel stupid because you ask why he likes you. And it turns out that you’ve met him way before attending middle school. And he has a crush on you way before you even knew him.

“You’re just, I don’t know… so free, like you don’t care how people look at you.”

He is praising you too much and you almost fall from the position you’re in and you haven’t fallen from handstands for years.

It keeps you happy all the way home and you don’t even complain when your brother asks you to hand-feed him cereal again.

The only unpleasant thing this evening is the screeching sound of knife being dragged on ceramic plate the entire dinner after you say to your brother; “Kurbro, I have a motherfucking boyfriend.” You don’t know why he is trying to cut his plate, though.

Really, only that. And when his phone vibrates and he says it’s a message from your father, you know the evening will only get better.

“Hey, baby brother. You’re up for some motherfucking hunting tonight?”

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ta-dah~! This chap is also slow, isn't it? I hope I can get to more action, buuuut, I'm saving it for later. Next chapter should pick up the pace though, if everything goes well. Don't hang on to that, still.
> 
> Well, always, comments ar very, deeply appreciated~!


	3. Kurloz ==> Tell Gamzee to Do His Own Laundry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's been a boring months, really. (or; in which we now know that Kurloz is the one doing the laundry.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chappie is short. And almost makes no sense at all. I still don't like how I write them, too. It feels... monoton. Like, very much so. 
> 
> I need more practice.

You grow bored.

It has been quite for months, only two hunts so far and now you grow bored.

The only thing worth mentioning is your dates and even after three months you’ve only had dates twice. There was a circus downtown and even though he’s scared of clowns, Tavros took you there because you said you like clowns. Then at the other weekend, he took you to cinema to watch the new movie about one jolly old man, one hummingbird-human hybrid, anthropomorphic rabbit, and one short golden man trying to recruit one boy with white hair to help them keeping the children safe. You felt guilty about sleeping through the whole movie, though.

Other than that, the only time you meet him is when you’re in school. He seems busy these days.

Yeah, only two dates and now you grow bored.

So when there’s another hunt, you lighten up immediately.

“Kurloooozzz, what took a motherfucker so long?” you practically whine when his preparation takes too long. Every minute wasted is every minute taken from playing predator.

A growl comes from the room across the living room. Your father is home. Huh, that’s weird. He’s usually out at around this time. Unless he takes a day off again.

The door clicks open, and there stands a man of two meters height with messy ponytail and only a loose pair of track pants as article of clothing who is your father.

“Hey, Old Man.”

Your old man throws a glance at you. His eyes look bleary. Maybe he’s been reading all day again.

“God fuckin’ damn it. Stop shoutin’, would ya, motherfucker? I’m tryin’ to catch some z’s, y’know. Just go motherfucking alone.”

Oh, he’s been sleeping. That explains the red eyes. And the sudden generosity of letting you go hunt alone.

“Really?”

“Just try not to make too motherfucking much mess. Didn’t clean up last time motherfucker go motherfucking alone.”

You beam a smile at him. You never thought you’ll be given chance to hunt alone again. After all, you’re always one messy kid, you left mess everywhere and that doesn’t really help anyone.

“Aiight, got that.”

“And don’t slam that motherfucking door.”

He slips back into his dark room and slams his door shut.

And you almost skip all the way with a stupid grin on your face.

One hunt, you have the hunt all for yourself. It can keep you sated for a few days.

* * *

 

The only thing you heard after the slam of your father’s door was Gamzee’s squeal.

You regret taking too much time with choosing what shorts you want to use today.

Sighing is the only thing you can do. If you go after him, he’s going to hate you forever and you _cannot_ have that.

Oh, your father and his reckless decision.

You slam open his door and turn on the light, knowing how much he hates that. He growls and curls in his blanket.

“Turn the motherfucking light off…” he slurred.

You flick the switch repeatedly, turning the light on and off on and off after he finally loses it and sits right up with a scowl.

“Old Man, you motherfucking let him go alone again?”

He shrugs, you wait.

“He kept shouting.”

Not good enough to make you go.

“Come on, motherfucker, let me sleep, will ya? It was the only one motherfucking way to shut him up. ‘Sides, he only has like… one target.”

You suddenly have the urge to burn his ponytail. That is _not_ the problem here.

“You know motherfucker tends to overkill.”

“Mhm… I know…” he’s ready to make peace with his pillow.

“What if—”

A snore stops you.

You flick the switch again. He covers his face with his blanket.

For the sake of all the motherfucking motherfuckers that had ever motherfucking step on this motherfucking planet, you want to smother him to death now. Or, maybe burn a pair or two from his high heels collection.

* * *

You never like Gamzee coming home with blood on his clothes. Why doesn’t anyone care that it is you that have to do the laundry.

Sure, you love your baby brother. You love him so much you want to rip anyone who snatches him away from you, but one can only take so much before reaching the breaking point.

“For fuck’s sake, you do your own motherfucking laundry this week! I’m not doing it! Fuck! You can kiss your motherfucking bloody t-shirts goodbye for all I fucking care!”

He doesn’t grin like he usually does. He doesn’t even try to calm you down.

He only stares at you and mutters a small ‘okay’ and walks to his own room upstairs.

Really? Is that all it takes to stop doing laundry four times a week? You should’ve snapped like that sooner.

But that’s probably not the case.

You run after him and his door is locked.

Okay… maybe you should let him rest?

Let him rest now?

That sounds like the only thing you can do for the time being.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, yeah. Comments are very appreciated~! :D


	4. Ignorance

You only had to do one kill.

And honestly, you don’t think you can handle more than four alone.

But that’s okay. It’s only one kill.

You are running out of breath.

You can hear three pairs of footsteps chasing you and another two ahead of you.

You’re ambushed. And you don’t know what to do.

Fuck your old man and fuck yourself. You can’t do this.

This isn’t one you against five Lowborns. Those, you can handle. They’re too stupid even to talk, much less to ambush you (though, they do make up their flaw in strength).

This is one you against five fucking Upclass. And they don’t seem to be very patient about chasing you to rip your guts out. You can hear wings flapping and you think; “Shit!”

For once in your life, you wish you didn’t forget your phone.

One pair of wings becomes two, and three… and then six.

“Shit. Fuck it, fuck it, fuck it, fuckfuckfuck—”

“Where do you think you’re going, boy?”

That’s one.

You take a step back when you point your gun at him and your back collides with something.

You can’t shoot; the rest will rip you apart once you do. You have to run.

“Leaving so soon?”

“Why, the night’s still young. We can have fun.”

Three, no, four.

“Or at least, us five will.”

No.

No. Nonononon—

Where’s the sixth?

It all end within a flash. One bloody head rolls to your feet, the body in front of you collapsed, blood gushes out and some spills on you. Looks like that one just had lunch, or dinner. Or maybe both.

The four left leave with ear-splitting screech and you close your ears real tight with your hands.

Then it hits you.

The sixth one.

You almost sob when the name spills from your mouth.

“Tav…?”

He doesn’t look like Tavros and you don’t want to believe he’s Tavros.

“Gamzee.”

_It’s not him._

It’s not him. Those eyes are too cold. His voice is too calm. No stutter, no quiver. Just plain calm. It’s not him.

“Gamzee, it’s me.”

Too stern.

You scream and you raise your gun and as fast as he beheaded the bloodsucker, he pins you face first to the wall. One hand seizes both your wrists, it hurts, and your grip on your gun loosens, leaving it fall to the cold, hard, pavement.

You’re scared.

_This is not him._

His other hand presses your head to the wall.

_Not him._

“Gamzee, it’s just me…” is spoken, softer this time.

_It is him._

How could you don’t notice? You never forget to make sure someone isn’t a fucking bloodsucker. You never forget to see anyone’s reflection on the mirror, see if they need to be invited to come into someone’s house, feel if their body temperature is colder than normal people.

But you forgot to check his reflection because you were always too fixated on his face, too fixated on his voice rather than what he was saying, too fixated on how hot your skin when you touch him.

You curse your ignorance. You should've known. He pins you against the cold wall and nohing you could do can save you now. You can feel his fangs against your neck and you're sure you're going to be dead.

The pain never comes.

So does the death.

It’s only a pair of cold lips pressed against your nape, then fangs tracing your skin lightly, and he’s gone.

And you’re alone. Then you cry.

And for once in your life, again, you wish Kurloz was going after you.

* * *

 


	5. ==> Be Karkat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> That's your problem. You love him too much.

Your name is Karkat and you sure like to swear. You’d apologize for it if it wasn’t for the fact that your guardian curses at least as much as there are stars on the sky per day. Or maybe more.

What are you gonna do today?

 

**== > Karkat: do nothing**

 

You decide you’re just gonna lay around all day like a sack of potatoes.

 

**== > Be the distressed clown**

 

Yeah, you’ll do that.

You are now Gamzee Makara again and you are currently having a nightmare. Or you wish you were.

It was certainly as real as the existing bags under your eyes. You don’t want to believe it, but the bags under your eyes are fucking real and so was your encounter. So real it feels like a nightmare. But any nightmare is better than this.

You curl in your bed and palm you nape. You can still feel lingering coldness of fangs being pressed onto your skin. Only lightly, not to kill, just as a reminder that he can and will kill you anytime he wants. Never in your life have you felt so stupid. Not even when your old man said you were because you couldn’t fucking answer what is three divided by one.

But, hey, people always say ‘love is blind, love makes someone stupid, love is blah blah blah,’ or something along that line. You shouldn’t be concerned because this time, you are stupid not because you are but because you’re in love. No, _were_ in love. Wait, are in love… were… shit. You couldn’t decide.

Well, anyway, yeah, you should console yourself with that thought. Go ahead and think until your head hurts and your brain decides to melt, until tomorrow Kurloz and your old man will find you dead with brain necrosis. Go ahead.

Because no matter how ignorant you are, no matter how stupid you are, you know this kind of mistake isn’t without a price. An expensive one, that is. No, actually it is more than expensive. It will cost you your life, and you know it.

He might just be outside your window right now, floating midair and asking for you to let him in. And you probably would, because he would ask so nicely with a soft stutter in his voice and a soft smile.

And once he’s in your room, he could…

“I can kill you.”

And you realize what you just did when you feel cold air gusting into your face. In front of you, he is smiling and only a few steps away.

He lets you fumble backwards to grab your gun, maybe because he finds this amusing.

“How…?”

“You just let me in, remember?”

Your eyes wide and your hands tremble. Well, not only your hands but your whole body. Holding a gun becomes a very tiring task right now.

“Go on; pull the trigger before I kill you. I can and I will, you know.”

You try, but your finger just can’t be moved. That’s when he chuckled.

“See, the thing is, Gamzee, I can kill you anytime. But you can’t kill me. Not now, not then.”

He takes a step closer and you flinch.

“Poor human, you…”

He takes another step, and another until you’re your guns is pressed against his chest. “Even at this distance where you couldn’t possibly miss.”

“And the only thing keeping you from killing me is you loving me too much.”

The hold at your wrists startles you and your hands are now behind you back. You are scared, sure, but not only from one thing. One part of you is scared of being killed right now in your own room where you’re supposed to be safe. Another part of you is scared that what he said is right.

He kisses you and you can’t breathe at all. And unlike the first time he kissed you, this one is just suffocating. And maybe you’ll die of suffocation at this rate.

A burning sensation in your lungs told you to gasp, and you do, and then you open your eyes and realize that you are alone in your room. No gun in your hand, no Tavros anywhere in sight.

Only you and your sorry ass on the bed, crying yourself to sleep and fell asleep with your face pressed into the pillow. There’s a damp spot and thin white crust where the tears had dried. Or maybe just snot.

Ew, gross.

That kinda explains the lack of air.

You are alive, and you are alright. And, shit, maybe that window was the one giving you nightmare all along, being opened wide and all.

You get out from the bed, eyes puffy and red, and close the window.

Weird, you thought you’ve closed it before you cried earlier.

Meh, maybe you just forgot. You decide to just shrug it off and sleep.

When you close your eyes for the second time (not with face into the pillow, of course, you don’t want to have a nightmare again), somehow, you feel safe.

 

**== > Gamzee: sleep, and become the swearing sack of potato**

 

“FUCKING COCKMUNCHING, SHITSTAIN, ASSLICKING SON OF A BITCH!”

“Calm your tith, KK. I’m thure he’th fine.”

“NO, I AM NOT CALMING MY TITS! THIS IS PAST MIDNIGHT AND HE SAID HE WILL BE HOME BEFORE TEN FUCKING PM! I’LL WAIT UNTIL HE’S HOME THEN I’LL FUCKING CALM MY TITS LIKE IT’S NO ONE’S FUCKING BUSINESS!”

“Geeth… you’ll wake the whole neighborhood, KK.”

“DO I LOOK LIKE I FUCKING CARE?! THOSE ASSWIPES GET TO GET THEIR FUCKING BEAUTY SLEEP WHILE I’M SITTING ON MY ASS WAITING FOR MY GUARDIAN EVERYDAY! ONE NIGHT WITHOUT SLEEP WON’T TURN THEIR SKIN INTO SOME CRUMPLED PAPER!”

Sollux stops trying to calm you after that. Yeah, that’s right; he should’ve stopped from hours ago. You have every right to worry and he has no right to tell you otherwise. You will calm your tits when it is time, when you are ready, and when you realize you lack of tits to calm.

But seriously, your guardian could be anywhere right now, and anything could be happening to him without you knowing just because he would pick his fucking phone. See? You have every right in the world to worry.

Your phone rings and you pick it up.

“Is he with you?” you asked abruptly.

Yes, the other line said, you guardian is there with him. No, he’s not in any danger. Unless you count throwing up in the toilet is dangerous. Which might be if he then passes out and drown his face in the water, he adds.

You ask again if he’s coming home.

No, he said, you guardian is staying at his apartment.

You grunt and thank him and hang up.

“Tho?”

“Shut up, lispy bastard.”

 

**== > Ask if Sollux want to watch romcoms with you.**

 

“No.”

“Oh, come on!”

“No. I’m not watching some thitty romcom, KK.”

“Think of it as some celebration or something? I mean, you were… right about him being fine?”

Sollux frowns at you. “If thith ith what I’m gonna get every-fucking-time I’m right, KK, I’ll never be right anymore. I’ll be as wrong as the people who thaid earth is flat.”

You chuck at him with a DVD case. “Shut the fuck up, Adam Sandler is great.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

Both of you spend the night arguing about ’50 First Dates’.

 

**== > Author: end the chapter before it gets more ridiculous than it already is**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp, there're Karkat and Sollux. I really should write longer chapter, but... laziness always win. Also homework, yeah, but laziness is just... wow. Lazy game too strong. *lame*
> 
> Also, I want to know if you guys like this style of writing or prefer my usual ones. You know, without the commands. Yeah. Please tell me what you think by leaving comments below. Thank you, I love you all so much for reading this~!   
> U///3///U *throws kisses*


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